


Cut to the Extras

by May_Jin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AUs, Cardverse, Multi, Short Stories, Sweet Devil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May_Jin/pseuds/May_Jin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There exist many worlds, each different from our own. Take a chance to walk the length of the bonds that connects us to these worlds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spying

**Author's Note:**

> 'Cut to the Extras' is an idea holder really. somewhere I could write drabble and short stories. Each chapter holds a new story , some might get revisited on a later date though, so keep an eye out for them.

England peeked over the bushes that he had hidden behind. He objective was in sight. One Alfred F. Jones, AKA America. England honesty felt bad for spying on the young American, but with America acting secretive and shady about his whereabouts for the past month, England felt that he had a right to know what his former colony was up to. Today, the American had gone to three different stores; a music shop, a fast food run and a game store. This wasn’t anything special to say the least. Right now, they were in a park, America had finished eating one of those burgers he loves so much and was just sitting around on the bench.

After five minutes, America seemed to perk up, leaving behind his bored facial expression and giving a wide toothy grin. From what England could see in his bushy hiding spot, a slender looking blond-haired woman in a blue dress, which looked like an old time maid dress you see in old films or one of America’s Disney movies, came up to him. From what he could see, the woman in blue was clearly not pleased; she frowned heavily at the American as she talked to him. England wished he could get closer to hear what the two were talking about, or at least knew why this seemingly angry woman was fussing about to the young American.

America smiled down at the woman in blue and laughed, making her frown even more. "Alfred Jones, you bloody idiot, don't you dare laugh." The British woman fussed.

But of course, the young American never listened to anyone and laughed some more before he could calm himself down. He gave the woman in blue a short hug and smiled down at her. "I can't help it Alice, you're just so cute when you're angry, ya know?"

"I am NOT cute!" the woman named Alice huffed, she didn't need another American calling her cute, she already had one and she rather not have to go to jail if either of them went missing. "Beside, it wasn't as if I missed you or anything, Alison was the one who wanted to know if you were feeling better, I could care less and even if I did care it's because our business would go down the drain without you."

America released the Alice with that ever-present knowing grin on his face. "Whatever you say." grabbing her hand, America begun to walk her out of the park.

England sat in the bush wide-eyed. He could only stare off to where the two. Was that it? The reason America had been acting so secretive for? A woman in blue? England's mind was still reeling from the display of America hugging the woman; it was a bit shocking to say the least. "Well, I'll be, so the lad hooked one eh?" England voiced after a few seconds of remembering how to talk again.


	2. Magic gone wrong

England had not meant for this to happen. He had not meant of the young American to fall into the spell. Well, he had, but he had not meant for the poor boy to get hurt… mostly. However, that was beside the point. The Point here was that America was hurt, badly it seemed. Having magic surging through one’s body when you are not accustom to it could take a real toll on the body, and could even be life threaten if not used carefully and in small amounts at a time.

Which England, had not done when he had used a rather large spell to teach the ungrateful brat a lesson or two. But now, looking at the now unconscious and barely breathing American, England felt a bit bad for his earlier decision.

Taking a wet washrag, he rung out the rest of the cold water back into the bowl, laying the rag on America’s forehead. England had checked earlier and found the young man with a high fever. Nothing ever good came when the boy had a fever. Getting flashbacks of when the younger male had been a small child who was a real terror when he gotten sick ran through England’s head.

Checking the clock on the wall of the living room, England frowned, it was already five thirty, and America had been out most of the day. Well, considering how much magic his body sucked up and how much of it did not, he was a bit surprised that America had not already died from an overload of magic in him.

“I might as well get something to eat, while I wait.” England sighed. He did not want to leave America alone, but it would not be a wise idea for him to be starving and tired if the American did wake up. Getting up, England left the room, and down the hall, headed straight for the kitchen.

\--

His body burned; as if it was on fire and someone was pouring oil on him to make it hotter and last longer then it should have to begin with. Why was his body burning?

He could hear someone, no, more like a few people talking. Were they talking to him? Maybe they did not know he was awake. Was he awake? Maybe this was a dream.

Nothing was making sense. His body ached and burned, his head felt clouded and he could not move, couldn‘t even open his eyes.

“…Switch.”

What? Switch? What was being said, it sounded like the voices were closer then before, but why? And why did they sound so familiar?

“You sure?”

That voice sounded like a kid’s. Where the hell was he? And why couldn’t he move? Maybe he was kidnapped and being drugged up with something weird. That had to be it.

“Make… Not… England… come back.”

Wait? What was that about England? Damn it, he couldn’t concentrate on the conversation very well. What if these people were trying to hurt England or something, or even try to take over the world while they had the hero in their evil clutches?

“Damn, he’s waking up. I’m going first.”

He heard a light laugh, one that sent a chill down his spine. There was something very wrong with the sound of it. It reminded him of the time Russia and him were going at each other during the Cold War. The sound was playful, yet sinister. Not the normal Russia playfulness, oh no. More like the one he had when the true cowboys and outlaws were still around, during the move out west, when horses and wagons fetched a good price, whether they were stolen or not.

He felt cool hands touch his burning body. The fingers spread out, like one would do when playing with mud or something.

Suddenly, that burning feeling skyrocketed. This time he found his voice and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Stop screaming you big baby!” That voice that gave him chills yelled. Those hands that belonged to the voice then began to sink into his skin. Slowly merging with him. It was painful, as if someone was slicing him in half in a very slow manner with a chainsaw using it like a butter knife cutting a banana.

“Don’t hurt him you big bully.” the kid’s voice was back to.

He felt the body above him sink into his before he finally passed out in pain. His last thoughts before he lost all consciousness,

Was he going to be all right?

\--

This body wasn’t so bad, he thought. It was refreshing to be out of that hellhole he called home. Well, he couldn’t really call it home now could he? He noticed, as soon as he gain control over the American’s body, that the hair color had changed to his own. From that sicken bright sunny blond, to a much need jet-black. Much better if you ask him.

The large black bat like wings he had also appeared with the change of hair color. That made him a very happy demon. He other selves didn’t know what they were missing out on. Speaking on missing something, he was hungry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hardly remember writing this one. I guess I was half sleep at the time.  
> Anyways, I fixed it a bit and changed a few things, but nothing really major.


	3. Sleepy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UKUS - Sweet Devil

Arthur was to say at least, displeased at the current situation that he was currently in. That French devil tricked him into caring for one of the newborn hell spawns, had he known two days ago what that no good bastard had planned he would have killed him on the spot for insisting that the deal be done.

“Damn him.” Arthur cursed under his breath. The long, whip thin tail he had flicked back and forth hard, snapping around behind him in anger. He dare not raise his voice, in fear that he would wake his now sleeping charge. The brat would never go to sleep that night if he woke up…again

The young devil he was watching over was a true nightmare for even Arthur, one of the greatest Sweet Devils there was. The brat cried and cried until Arthur picked him up. He was always hungry and never seemed to get full and to top it all off, the young devil seemed to know when someone else took Arthur’s attention off of him, even when he was asleep!

Arthur was fed up with the boy he was forced to care for, so that night he finally just stuck the brat in the makeshift nursery and closed the door. He refused to go and check on the child when he cried; he refused to even bat an eye to the cursed door for the night whether or not the boy cried.

But all the while, guilt built up in Arthur’s stomach and if he was not careful and let his mind wonder to far he would get guilt ridden thoughts in his head; ‘He’s just a baby’ or ‘I should be able to do this, it’s shouldn’t be this hard!’

Late that night, Arthur made his way to the closed nursery door. Going inside the room, he could see that the baby devil boy was wide-awake and had a tear-stained face, with a cute little pout on his lips. “Hello there love, you’re awake are you?” Walking over, Arthur went to lift the baby off the small bed, when he was hit with a small dark purple energy ball on his forehead, knocking him back a bit and away from the small child. The older devil stared down in shock at his young charge. A bit at the fact that, yes the boy had indeed just forced him away and the fact that the child could use magic at such a young age.

Soon that shock turned into anger and worry. “Wh-What is the meaning of this you brat?” Arthur said harshly, he saw the look of fear grace the child’s sky blue eyes, but he also saw the mix of anger and sadness, with a tiny hint of hurt. “What, lose your nerves have you?” Arthur spoke up, only to see a small little fireball get hurled at him for his words. He caught the boy’s fireball and let it die out in his hand before it could hit him.

Looking back at the child, his eyes grew wide and quickly he placed his hands on his ears. The boy opened his mouth and let out a head-splitting scream. No person, not even a devil should ever have to hear this scream. It was as if someone placed twenty or so nails on a chalkboard and they all went down the board very slowly, one after the other without stopping. All the while, a chainsaw was running on full power.

A full five minute pasted before Arthur was finally able to use his ears again now that the child was crying normally and not screaming his small lungs and heart out. The blue-eyed child was sniffing and pouting, for such a small thing, the boy could really scream when he felt like it.

Arthur glared at the boy before walking over to the bed again, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the boy with displeasure. “I do hope you feel better now brat, now that you nearly caused everyone near by to become deaf.” That hurt look crossed the baby boy’s face, tears wielded up in the corners of his eyes. Sighing, Arthur sat down next to the child, far enough that if the boy decides if he wants to throw more magic at Arthur he could get out of the way, but close enough that he could pet the boy’s head. “Now, Now love, don’t cry anymore, okay?” Arthur said soothingly, he watched as the pouting black-haired boy began to relax a bit at the soft touch of Arthur’s hand.

After a while the boy’s eyes began to close, the soft humming of Arthur’s voice was very soothing when he wasn‘t being so harsh and cross, and all the crying he had done earlier was taking a toll on his small body. However, there was one more thing he wanted before he surrender and let sleep claim him completely. Glancing up the small baby boy looked at his new caretaker with sleep-filled blue-eyes before letting out a whine.

Arthur stopped what he was doing and looked down at the child. He saw the child had indeed become sleepy, so why didn’t he just fall asleep already? It would for the best after all.

“Now what do you need?” Arthur asked, moving carefully, he pick the small child up and held him gently in his arms. The child cooed and snuggled against the man, using his small hands to hold onto Arthur’s sleeve. Arthur found this oddly cute in a strange way. The boy looked up at Arthur with barely opened eyes. “Ahh, gwaa.” he spoke in babyish, Arthur still had no clue what the boy wanted, but it could not be that hard to figure out.

“Are you hungry?” He asked the child

A frown was what he got for an answer. “Gwaa!” the child complained half-heartedly. He had already eaten earlier after Arthur had left him all alone to cry in the dark room for three hours. It was a good thing he found a way to use the very limited amount of magic he had, or Arthur would have been food for sure, it would have served him right.


	4. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild blood in this one, nothing too bad though.  
> USUK - with Cardverse

England watched in horror as America slid down to his knees, blood quickly drenching the front of his shirt around the wound where the sword had pierced him. The sword slid farther and farther inside, going down to the hilt within seconds and out through the other side. The owner of the sword drew it back slowly, watching with bright blue eyes, as the young American cough out blood. England wanted to cry out, wanted to end what he was being force to see, it was too much for him.

Looking up, he could see a cruel smirk placed on the lips of the Queen, a smirk he knew all to well. The look in those familiar pair of dark forest green eyes was enough to tell England, that no matter how much he or America were to plea, the cruel Queen of Spades would only turn a deaf ear on them

The Queen of Spades watched with what seemed to be amusement to the sight. Honestly, he had worried for his dear poor king a few times. The young king was not very strong against magic-based attacks and that black-haired devil version had both him and America beaten in terms of magic and strength, but lucky the two had somehow overcome that by working together.

“How does it feel America?” The blue-eyed sword wielder asked the fallen American. He drew his sword out of America quickly, causing the other to fall to his hands and knees. The blue-eyed young man walked around and settled himself in front of the injured American, lifting his chin to make him face him. “How does it feel to lose it all? To know that everything you know is going to be stripped from you in just a few moments?” A sad smile graced the young man’s lips as he spoke.

America tried to get his eyes to focus, it was harder to do so since Texas had gotten lost sometime in the fight, and the fact he had lost so much blood already from the earlier battle with that devil thing that had looked so much like him. America could not speak, it hurt so much, if he had to be honest with himself, he was pretty scared too.

As a Nation he knew he couldn’t die, no matter the wound unless it‘s a direct attack on the land itself. but here, in this place, he was no longer the superpower of the world, he was no longer the Avatar of the United States of America; Here he was just as vulnerable as a normal human.


	5. Russian Roulette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RusAme - Human!AU

Alfred held the gun firmly between his hands. The sliver of it glinted with an ominous aura around it, sending a shiver down his spine. It was a six round shooter, with only one bullet left, hidden within one of the six chambers. It was a game chance, with only one winner, and no take backs, no do-over’s. Slowly, sky blue eyes rose to meet with dark violet for maybe the last time.

Ivan had suggested that they play this high risking chance of a game and Alfred had been foolish enough to say yes to the taller blonde. But now, with the gun in his hands he wasn't so sure he could go through with it.

“Just take a deep breath and close your eyes Alfred, it helps with the nerves.” Ivan had said soothingly to him, the smile he wore was one of the more sincere ones he had. It still unnerved the young American how calmly the Russian was about this. “It’s much easier once you calm yourself down”

He nodded to the taller male and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths while raising the gun to his head. He could feel his heart beating faster and harder as the gun reached the side of his head. Soon the cold metal was pressing against him, his pointer finger hovering over the trigger.

‘All I have to do now is count to three’ Alfred thought to himself.

One…

Deep breathe in.

Two…

Deep breathe out, finger pressing slowly harder on the trigger.

Three…

_CLICK ___

Ivan watched as Alfred slowly let the gun drop from his hand. The young America fell to his knees with a terrified look on his face, as he realized what he had just done. Ivan smirked as amusement danced gleefully in his eyes. 

“That wasn't so hard now was it Alfred?” 

The young American stared, shell-shocked at what had happened. His life had flashed before his eyes as he pulled the trigger. It was a terrifying thing that he had witnessed. However, that wasn't the thing that scared him. No, it was the thought that Ivan had said he played this before many times, meaning he had never lost once. 

“Shall we continue our little game now?” Ivan said with joy, his own hand reaching down to pick up the gun. He spun the barrel of the gun before it stopped on a random chamber. Ivan didn't even flinch as the metal of the gun touched the side of his head; he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. 

Alfred watched with wide eyes as the taller man took the gun away from his head and knelt down to his level on the ground. “Your turn, Da?” there was so much amusement and joy in the other’s eyes that Alfred had to question if this was for real or not. Taking hold of the other’s hand, Ivan gave the gun to Alfred. 


	6. Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UKUS - Angel!England/BabyDevil!America  
> (sorry if there's a lot USUK/UKUS, I'm trying to get more comfortable at writing other pairings.)

Arthur knew he should not have done it. There were so many penalties for doing such acts in heaven… but he could not leave the hopeless little demon child that could not even defend himself from that other monstrous being. He should have left well enough alone and killed both, it would have been best to rid them of this realm, but after seeing the poor child cry and scream in pain, his heart could not take it.

The boy clung to the Angel’s white robes, his face buried as tears streamed down his face, he was in so much pain, that he didn't even care that an Angel was carrying off with him, most likely to kill him. He just wanted the pain in his wings to stop. It hurt so much.

After getting far away from the thick forest edge, the Angel sat the crying demon child on a tree stump and bent down to eye level with the boy. Arthur slowly raised a hand to one of the small-injured black wings on the child’s back. The boy flinched away as soon as the Angel’s hand slightly brushed against the wing, curling into a make shift ball with a small cry.

Arthur frowned. During his time as an Angel, he had learned that for them and demons, their wings were very sensitive, making them weak points on their bodies if certain places were touched. What kind of cold-hearted demon would do this to a child? Never mind the fact that said child was a demon as well. He was a child nonetheless, and was of the older demon’s kind.

“There, there now love, stop your tears, I won’t hurt you.” Arthur said calmly, hoping to soothe the boy, and then maybe he could get a better look at his wings without the child being afraid of him. A small tail flicked around and wrapped around the Angel’s wrist, the dulled pointed end poking the middle of his hand. The small child looked up, showing off his watery sky blue eyes to the Angel

Arthur watched as the child’s tail curled and uncurled its self around his hands, poking his fingers and everywhere that he could reach with it. The Angel never had seen such a small demon before, well, it least, not this small. The boy, in human age, looked to be no older then six. Arthur smiled kindly to the boy.

Using his other hand, he tried touching the left wing on the boy, this time the demon did not curl into a small ball of tears. The wing was torn in different spots; Arthur could see small splotches of blood where it looked like someone had taken shears and clipped the leathery bits of his wings. Such a horrible thing to do to someone so young.

“You poor thing, no wonder you cried so hard.” After he said this, he noticed that the boy retracted his tail and looked away quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Arthur asked, he wondered how much trouble he was going to be in if he just healed the wings. It just did not feel right to leave the poor child wounded, even if he was a small demon. The boy shook his head, refusing to look at the Angel any longer.

“N-No, I-I’m fine.” That was the first thing the boy had said. He voice sounded so small and shaken

After getting the boy to agree to let him care for him until his wings healed, Arthur gathered the child into his arms and flew off; unaware of a being, standing in the shadows watching, smirking at the sight. 

“Bad boy.”


	7. Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years Everyone!
> 
> Listening to Jessica Rabbit - 'Why don't you do right?' and then BAM, I wanted to write this.  
> No real pairing this time, though.

It was a Friday night; the time was half past ten. The bar had been getting full with bar hoppers and the regulars coming in. Francis, Arthur and Ivan decided after their meeting that was a good time as any to get drunk before heading home for the weekend. Well, Francis decided to watch Arthur get drunk but that was a different tale all together. To their surprise, the bar that they had chosen had a large stage.

A band was already up there, playing soft jazz. The red, blue and normal lights were turned down low; a few waitresses and waiters were serving drinks to the men that were seated at the tables around the place, while a few bartenders served the people at the main bar itself. The sounds of men and women snapping their fingers to the beat of the drums and the tapping of shoes on hardwood floors could be heard slightly.

After they had been seated near by the stage, they gave their orders; Ivan had gotten vodka, Francis found wine on the menu and Arthur order a scotch on the rocks. The place was not all that bad; they could feel the relaxation all around them from the other patrons.

“Man, that girl is performing tonight.” a man whispered to his friend. The other man nodded and smiled pervertedly and whispered back. “She is a beauty to behold, and she has such an amazing voice to boot.”

Ivan had been able to hear what the men said, even as they talked lowly. He wondered what kind of girl this performer was. He was not too hopeful for her though. Most girls that he had seen while he was in the States, performing in places like bars and pubs were not very interesting if they were good or they were not very good in the first place. They could have a pretty face but no talent for their trade of work.

They continued to keep talking about ’this girl’ until the lights turned back up and the band stopped playing the song. A host walked out and greeted the audience, he thanks the band that had played and then began to announce the next act in their line up for the night.

“And now, please give a hand and warm welcome to Miss Alison Jones.” The crowd clapped with pure enthusiasm, mostly from the men though. The hosted walked off to the right side of the stage, cueing the lights to turn down real low. The music started back up, playing slow and soft. A female voice joined in with the music with a hum before the lyrics began.

A leg appeared out from behind the blue sparkling curtains, catching the attention of the all present men at the stage and at the main bar. Even Francis and Arthur were watching with slight interest in the show, something they both not really cared for.

A sunny blond-haired girl stepped out completely, getting some whistles and claps at her appearance. The girl wore a long red strapless dress. There was a slit on the left side, reveling one of her long tanned legs, maybe stopping just above the lower middle of her thigh. A whistle escaped from Francis’s lips.

Her face was a bit rounded, either all of her baby-fat had not completely disappear yet or her was face naturally rounded, giving her cheeks an extra puff. Her eyes were a sparkling sky blue. Her full lips painted a dark red. She had the all of her curves in just the right places, giving her a nice figure.

The singer walked over to the side of the stage and slid down a pillar on her back standing up, her hand sliding down her throat to the top of her dress, where most men had their attention: her chest. Arthur and Francis both could not lie; they both looked down to where her hand was, getting a bit more interested in where this was going. The blue curtains rose to reveal a band playing the music, but the spotlight was on the singer named Alison.

Alison walked the length of the stage, her slender hips given a slight shake as she walked. Her voice was soft yet alluring to those that heard it, like a siren luring in the sailors of the seas to her nest in the rocks. Ivan watched as Alison took one of the men’s hand, who had earlier been whispering about her, and walked onto the table and onto the ground.

When she had turned around, her eyes caught Ivan’s own dark violet ones watching her. She gave a flirty wink to him with a smile. Turning around she walked behind the man who had said some more perverted things before the show started. She reached her hand down into the pocket of his shirt, took out a purple handkerchief, and held it up high, before letting it slowly fall back down to its owner on top of his head.

Her attention then focused on Ivan and his table of friends. The slow walk and the shake of her hips made Arthur raise an eyebrow with interest. Alison sat down on the table of the three men, she let out a small hum to the music as she let her fingers dance their way under Arthur’s chin, leading him closer to her, and slowly she backed away, as she sang some more of the song. Her small slender fingers leaving the blushing, wide-eyed Englishman bright red.

A quiet chuckle came from Francis as he watched Arthur take a hurried gulp of his drink, trying to get the blush to leave his face one way or another. It was silly to get so worked up by some young woman like that, she barely even touched him!

If Alison had not been busy singing, she would have laughed at her newest viewer’s reaction. It was fun to mess with the men who come to watch her shows, to watch her dress up and sing like this. To want her attention and small touches. She loved watching them too, to see how their eyes get so big with hope that she will walk to their table, that she will look at them and give that flirty little smile to them.

It was not long until she made her way back up on stage. He voice was still as soft and strong as before. Alison finished the song. The crowd cheered for her. Giving a bow, the young woman walked off the stage with a smile on her face.

Two hours later, after the final performance of the night, Arthur, Francis and Ivan had begun getting ready to go home. Arthur and Ivan did not get drunk like they had hoped, and Francis felt a tad bit disappointed by this outcome. However, they did manage to get to see a very entertaining show. Namely a young woman name Alison Jones.


	8. Wondeful dream & Quiet Rebel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One America and one for Canada

It was a dream, a beautiful dream of Freedom in the young American’s eyes. No more will he have to listen to Britain and his rulers, no more will he have to suffer through Britain’s long lectures as to why the things he likes and dreams of are just childish foolishness that he should have grown out of years ago. He was free to do what he wanted, to roam free bare feet in the forests of his lands if he so desired. He could be as lazy or productive when he wanted without being scolded for it. 

Yes, it was a very beautiful thing indeed. Of course he would be very productive, he was a now a full-fledged Nation now, and he had a lot to do in order to become the very best for his people.

America worked hard for years, with each of his presidents as they came and left. Working hard with the other and often older Nations as best he could with his still limited knowledge of the world outside the few places he knew. To him to was worth the battle with his former mentor, his former adoptive brother. To see the world through his own eyes and build his own history without the help of Britain telling him what to do and how he wants him to do it. He would soon show that yes, he was serious about this, that he could handle himself just fine.

-

Canada worried about his brother, he worried that he would do something very stupid and get hurt. However, as much as he wanted to go and see about him, he knew England would be upset with him if he did so. And He himself hasn't fully forgiven his twin just quite yet for burning down his capitol and trying to force him to join with him. Canada sighed and looked out the window, it was snowing lightly, just barely dusting the ground, he thought about going to drawing room where the fireplace would be, since it was cold enough for the servants to start lighting it up each morning, and curling up with one of the new books that France had secretly sent him, but resisted. 

England would be back any moment and Canada did not want a repeat of what happened last time England caught him reading books written in French and not in English.

It was quite silly really. France was his papa first and taught him French before England stole him away and made him learn English because he refused to talk to him in French more then he had to and America could only say one sentence at the time and even then, England disapproved of the language being spoken in his presence. Canada chuckled quietly to himself when a thought popped up. In a way, by him reading the books in French instead of English was he own little rebellion against England, only on a smaller scale then his brother’s.


	9. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> US/Fem!UK

Alfred sat on a log, watching the flames of the campfire while Arthur and Matthew were sleeping inside the tent, missing the night sky that was filled with bright shining stars. The gentle breeze blew some of Alfred bangs into his face.

Memories flooded his mind. All those years ago sitting in the same spot, under the same stars. He could hear the sounds of men and women laughing and singing old songs that he could no longer remember the lyrics to. But there was one part of those memories he could never forget.

A slim petit body, with long golden hair in twin braids resting at the shoulders and bright green eyes that could rival that of England’s. Alfred remembered how that night he had watched as that pretty woman had laughed and sang; how she danced with the others that they were traveling with.

Alice was her name; she was a young woman from London with a strong determination to make her way out west, to start a new life on her own. Alfred remembered how she explained her plan that she made for when she made it out west. He remembered the one thing she wanted most though; it was that she wanted to start a family of her own.

Alfred smiled sadly at those memories. How he had fell in love with the pretty young girl, and her beautiful smile

If he known that she would leave, then maybe it wouldn't have been so painful, if he hadn't been a nation then maybe he could have gone with her, back to her home in London. Then maybe he could have been with her for so much longer.

Alfred sighed and looked to the slowly dying fire. He could image Alice placing her hands on her hips, scolding him for doing something reckless, and her bright eyes telling him how worried she really was about the wild cowboy.

The image changed and Alice is wearing one of her fancy dressing gowns. It was one of his favorites too; a light red dress with a pale blue ribbon tied at the waist, most of her hair was down, while she the rest tied in a messing bun in the back. Alfred could see the blush on her face while she glared at him, as he asked for a dance, with her taking his hand.

Alfred put the rest of the fire out making sure that nothing would relight. It had gotten late and he knew the rest of the camping trip was not over yet and so he needed to get some rest. While he made sure that the supplies were put away properly, he remembered some of the tune to the last song he and Alice shared together before she left.

“Do not hasten to bid me adieu.” He sang quietly, so he did not wake up his sleeping companions, he looked up at the sky and smiled. “But remember the red river valley.”

Yawning, Alfred crawled into the tent that him and his brother were sharing and got into his sleeping bag. Soon, he was fast asleep, dreaming of that pretty, little Alice. His head lying on her lap as she sang that song to him one last time, a rare peaceful smile gracing her pale lips.

_“And the cowboy that loves you so true.”_


	10. Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> France/Canada Human!AU

There was nowhere left to hide. He would be found and caught at this rate, and then the worst thing imaginable would happen to him. The little blonde haired boy looked around the corner with his soft almost violet-blue eyes, hugging his little white bear tightly to his chest. After making sure the coast was clear, the little boy made a mad dash for his bedroom, getting inside and closing the door with a quiet click. He locked the door and sighed with relief.

“Ahh, there you are Mon petit Matthieu.” The boy jumped with fright and turned around quickly to see where the voice had came from. Francis was sitting on the bed with a smile on his face, holding a towel and some clean clothes that were Matthew’s size. “I have been waiting for you.” 

Matthew’s eyes grew wide, he was trapped, he had been caught and now, he was going to be a goner. Francis got up and grabbed the little boy, holding him gently in his arms while unlocking the door. He had no idea why Matthew had been hiding from him since that afternoon, but it was a bit amusing to see the child trying to hide in some of the oddest places.

Francis took little Matthew into the bathroom and sitting the boy down on the counter with the change of clothes and the towel right next to him. “Stay right there, okay? I will be right back for you.” He told the boy, before going over to the bathtub and turning it on. Matthew looked around the bathroom; he knew he could not get down the counter by his self since he was so up high off the ground. He sighed in defeat as his doom slowly came closer with the passing seconds as the water started to rise in the tub.

After he made sure the water was not to hot or cold, Francis went back to get Matthew. It was not until Francis touched the poor child that he finally burst into tears, scaring Francis half to death at the sudden waterworks.

“What is wrong mon garçon?” He asked, Francis never liked the sound of children crying, but it broke his heart to hear Matthew cry. It took a while, since Francis could not understand what the young boy was saying through his crying, but soon, Matthew calmed down enough to speak clearly.

“Papa, why are you trying to get rid of me?” The child asked quietly between sniffs. Francis was shocked to hear that his little boy thought that he would get rid of him; he had to wonder how and where the child had gotten such an idea how.

“Now why would I do that Matthieu? Where did you get the idea that your papa would do such a thing?” Francis asked calmly, he held the boy in his arms again and rubbed his back soothingly.

Looking up with his big baby eyes, Matthew wiped some tears away. “Alfred said that since I ate a lot of sweet stuff, I will become really sweet too, but if I do, I’ll melt away in the water.” 

Francis stared at the boy, torn between wanting to laugh at the silliness of it or cuddling the small child and cooing over how cute his is. He placed the boy back on the counter and smiled. 

“Ah, so that is the problem then? Well, your papa knows just the thing to fix it so you won’t melt away.” Francis poked Matthew’s nose lightly, causing the child to let out a giggle. He told the child to wait and dashed out the room; he made a stop in his office to grab a piece of paper a pan, and then went to get a cookie out of the kitchen. When he came back, Matthew was still sitting where he had left, though the boy looked a bit nervous.

Francis placed the pen in Matthew’s tiny hands and put the paper next to him. “Alright Matthieu, first we need you to write your name on the paper with this pen.” Francis said, Matthew looked up at him with questioning eyes, but did what his papa had said. Next, he took the cookie out and gave it to the child.

“Now if you eat this cookie, you won’t melt away.” Francis told Matthew, who only looked at the older man as if he had gone insane.

“How can writing my name and eating a cookie help me papa?” Matthew believed his papa for the most part, but this just sounded too strange.

Patting the boy’s head, Francis smiled. “You see petit Matthieu, this is a magic cookie, and if you eat it you will not melt away.” Francis explained, hoping the child will believe his little trick.

“But why do I have to write my name?” He questioned.

“Because you cannot erase what you wrote in pen like you can with a pencil, so if you do both of these things you will not go away.”

Matthew looked with wide eyes; he never thought that a pen could save his life before. So immediately, the boy took the ‘magic’ cookie and begun munching away. This caused Francis to quietly chuckle with amusement as he watched the young child finish eating his cookie.

After the cookie was dealt with, Francis undressed the boy and slowly placed him in the tub, letting Matthew relax a bit before he began to wash him. “See? You are not melting now, you are safe to get to wet now.” Francis spoke as he poked the child tummy.

Matthew just giggled with happiness and smiled. “Thank you papa!”


	11. Papa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, all it takes is a little love and care to change someone's heart around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> France/Chibi!Canada time

“Don’t leave me!” Little Canada cried. He stood in front of the door, blocking the path that France was going. The boy held his arms out, while his little toy white bear sat on the floor next to him, helping him keep the older French nation in the house. His violet-blue eyes filled with tears as he tried so hard not to outright cry.

He had overheard the nation talking last night about leaving to go back to his home on the other side of the ocean, and the little boy didn’t want to be alone again. His brother had left him; other people had come and gone as well. He was always being left behind and forgotten; but not this time, he refused to let the older nation leave him.

France stared at the small child in shocked. In all the time he had been with boy, he would shy away and hide from him, so much that France had thought that maybe he had done something to offend the little colony in some way when they had first met a few weeks ago. And the fact that he had never seen the child look so upset before. France walked slowly towards the boy, getting within arms distant before stopping.

“You-You don’t want me to leave?” France asked, he got down into one knee so that way he was eye level with the upset child; after all he didn’t want to seem intimidating to the boy. Little Canada shook his head, still holding his little arms out. France smiled slightly, that made him happy to hear.

“Then want do you want Mon petit Canada?” France asked. This made the boy stop and stare at the older nation. The child bit his bottom lip, his little cheeks puffed out while in thought, which France thought was very cute.

“I-I want you to stay with me.” Canada lowered his arms, his eyes still watering. “Please.” He added. And who was France to deny such a cute little child such as Canada this? France smiled and nodded. A big smile appeared on the child’s face, despite the tears running down his face as well.

Without thought, Canada ran straight for France with arms wide open, slamming into the older nation and knocking them both over, he held France in a crushing embrace. France was struggling to sit up with Canada clinging to him, but somehow manage to do it.

After sitting up, France wrapped his arms around the small boy. They sat there for while until France took notice of the boy becoming heavier, he readjusted the child in his arms so that the boy would be in a more comfortable position. Canada seemed to disagree with this movement and put up a small fuss over being moved.

“Shh, little one, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere, see?” France spoke calmly to the half-sleep child. Canada looked up and with one small hand grabbed onto France’s jacket, he smiled at this and closed his eyes. This made France chuckle quietly.

Standing up, France went upstairs. Once there, he went into Canada’s room, hoping to lay the boy down for a nap. But alas, once he had set Canada down, the boy woke up with a start. He looked up with his wide eyes that seemed to change between light violet to a very pretty shade of blue.

France placed a hand on top of Canada’s soft hair and smiled softly, which made Canada smile and laid his head on the pillow. France started to cover the boy, but Canada stopped him by grabbing his hands.

“Umm… C-Can you stay with m-me?”

And France’s heart melted. He nodded and laid next to the boy on the bed, covering them both up under the blanket. It shocked him a bit when Canada scooted closer to him, snuggling and making himself comfortable. France chuckled wrapped his arm around the child, who just looked up and smiled sweetly.

Canada went to sleep fairly quickly, leaving the French nation to watch over him. France smiled. He still didn’t quite know how to deal with little Canada, but at least the little boy seemed to have taken a liking to him now, which was good. He was beginning to think the child was still afraid of him after all this time.

He watched as Canada moved slightly in his sleep, talking in his sleep. After awhile, France began to drift off to sleep himself. A little nap never hurt anyone, besides it would do him some good to get a little bit more rest.

When the two woke up feeling refreshed, France took Canada back downstairs and into the kitchen. Since it was about midday, he made them some lunch and the two sat at the table. Canada swung his little legs as his ate the food that France had made, it was still odd to the little boy, but he thought it tasted good.

After lunch, France went to gather the dishes on the table to clean them. Canada was still in his seat, smiling happily. “Merci monsieur papa!” He wasn’t sure if that was right; since he was still learning the older nation’s language, but he hoped that it made the other very happy.

France stopped what he was doing and looked at the small child with wide eyed. Out of all the things that the little boy had said or did that day, France would have never image that he would call him ‘papa’. France smiled and patted the child on the head, still shocked.

“Vous êtes très bienvenus mon fils” France replied back softly, Canada smile grew only bigger as he jumped down from his seat and ran out of the room to go find his missing little white bear, leaving the older nation to his thoughts.

“Me? A papa, huh?” France thought aloud, he could get use to that, it sounded… Nice. 

After the dishes were cleaned, dried and placed back into the cupboards, France went to find the little boy. And for the rest of the day, France played with the little child name Canada.


	12. With Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which The Queen of Spades tries to convinces England to lose while the King of Spades tries to not feel guilty for what his has done to many others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UsUk (plus Cardverse UkUs)  
> A minor sequel to 'Battling Myself'

England stared in horror as America finally slumped forward to the ground, blood pooling around his body.

“N-no, no stop this!” He struggled to free himself of the magic bonds holding his wrists down to the chair, he had to free himself and get to America.

The Queen of Spades chuckled, finding this all too amusing. “And why should I?” The green-eyed man asked, he looked away from the window to look down on his counterpart. “Why should I give this man mercy? After all, did you not want him to pay dearly for hurting you so in the past?”

England shook his head. “N-not like this, this isn’t- I never wanted this to happen.” He continued to pull at the bonds but they held fast, not giving in. The Queen of Spades smirked and took a step forward to his captive.

“Oh? Then how would you have preferred it? Tell me, I would love to know” The Queen said mockingly.

“Or I could end it here if you want England, I could tell my dear sweet King Alfred to go ahead and finish the brat off just for you; just say the magic words and it will all be over for him.” The Queen’s words dripped with honey.

However England was no fool, he knew what those words meant, even if the demon and Angel versions had no clue what they had say or done, he wouldn’t be a fool to give up both of their lives so easily to the other. “Never.” He glared at the Queen and saw the smirk on his face grow wider

Outside, America was taking deep but painful breaths, his lungs felt like they were burning, no his whole body felt like it was burning, yet it felt like it was getting colder. He could see his counterpart’s boots in front of him.

“I’m sorry America; you were such a worthy comrade and a worthy foe.” He could hear the other whisper softly. Taking one last deep breath, America looked up to see sky blue eyes staring sadly back at him.

The King of Spades or Alfred as he had introduced himself as looked sadden at the thought of killing the other. He had hoped that the demon and Angel versions of him had been enough for his queen, but alas it had not been, and now he would have to take another life.

Kneeling to the ground to be closer, Alfred rolled the other onto his back then placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready at a moment’s notice for the order to end America.

“I wonder, do you think your Arthur is strong enough to withstand the power that mine has?” He doubt it, no other Arthur was stronger than his, besides; if an Angel’s nor a Demon’s magic come close to stopping Arthur’s, the what hope does these nations have?

America stared at the other for a moment. “Yes, and he’ll beat your bat crazy Queen.” It hurt to talk, but America made sure to try and keep his voice even and firm as much as possible.

He may doubt that magic was real and he may doubt that England was in his right mind whenever he talked about magic and magical beings, but if anything, he didn’t doubt that England was strong.

Alfred smiled sadly again; he would have loved to have been able to meet these others of his self on different terms. “Pray that he does, for both all of our sakes.”

America had no clue what had meant by that, but judging from this king dude’s face, it couldn’t have meant anything good.


	13. Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonderland was a strange and timeless place. Too bad none could remember why it was timeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cardverse/Wonderland  
> No real pairing (minor Spamono / AusHun and hinted PruCan)  
> Warning: Character Deaths

Wonderland, Oh wonderland.

A place full of everything yet was empty and void of everything. Oh how Wonderland was the place of both imagination and illogical conclusions. It is here that The Four suit Kingdoms sat, here in wonderland.

The Kingdoms that were four, they had been alarmed and rightfully so. To see the fall of the King of Diamonds Francis had been a shock to all of the other three Kingdoms, for none could remember a time where the Royal suits had ever died.

Most had thought that the King of Diamonds had played them, until they saw for themselves that indeed that the King had died, a shot to the head, as he held a twisted grin upon his face. In his hand, card that none had ever seen before in their long lives.

The Ace of Diamond.

The weapon was found the next day by a maid who walked in the garden of golden roses. Along with this gun were papers, and on them was a song, one that King Francis had always sung while he worked or to those who requested it.

The three other Kingdoms were quickly suspected in the murder of the Gracious King. None could deny that at least one of the Royals in each kingdom had held bad relations with Francis.

The Queen of Spades; Arthur

The King and Queen of Clubs; Ivan and Elizabeth

The King of Hearts; Ludwig

Weeks had passed since the passing of the King of Diamonds, and there were no clues as to who killed him. That is, until the second murdered happened.

The Jack of Hearts Feliciano had his older twin brother Lovino staying with him to spend some time with his only family since the death of their grandfather. And who, in the twisted tale of wonderland, but the King of Hearts to walk into the Jack’s room to find both he and his brother lying on the ground dead.

Each having the familiar look of fear and a twisted grin on their faces, and in their hands, each held half of a torn card.

The Ace of Hearts.

The mystery of this could not be unraveled, for none could think of anyone wanting to rid the kind-hearted Jack and his brother. But the most mysterious thing of all, that the knife that Feliciano had had been bloody and in the garden among the red roses.

The Queen of Hearts, Kiku had been the one to tell Lovino’s lover Antonio. All three and all of the Kingdom of Hearts had been left distraught and distressed over the event surrounding the tragedies that had occurred.

This left the Kingdoms of Spades and Clubs as tensions rose of the deaths of three.

The Royals of Spades and Clubs decided that it would have been best to close the gates and borders of their Kingdoms until they could determine who or what was causing this.

Months went by without incident. No attacks or deaths had falling on any more of the Royal suits. Most had hoped that it had been over; Oh but those in wonderland should have known better then to hope for anything in a land where anything was possible.

Has the months grew warmer in Clubs; the scream of a maid could be heard. The screams of this maid that rang out to all who could hear were the dreaded words no one wished to hear ever again.

“The Queen has died!”

In the maid’s hand was a card that she had found lying on the end of the Queen’s bed.

Ace of Clubs

The news of Elizabeth’s death sent the entire Kingdom into madness. Most had blamed the King, as it had been rumored that he was a madman, one that would kill at the dropped of a hat. Others believed that the Jack Roderich had done something.

They had been married years before becoming the Queen and Jack of Clubs, However there was no love by the time they found the marks of Wonderland on their bodies.

But upon looking through the room of the Queen, they found a knife in a vase of green roses and it had the mark of the Jokers on the handle with the name of “Gilbert” on it. This would leave them to believe that the older brother to Ludwig killed the Queen of Clubs.

But alas, nothing could be pinned on the man, as Gilbert of Hearts and his little assistant Peter of Spades, the Jokers, had died to their marks of wonderland two years prior, as Jokers were never destined to live long.

The final cause of death for Elizabeth was that she took her own life. The motive of this was never determined as to why. Though most suspected it was due to her own fear.

All heads turned to Spades. The fourth and final Kingdom in the mysterious world that was their wonderland.

They had been the only ones yet to be attacked, and still no clue as to who had killed the other, not even a pattern for them to follow, as each death had been different, besides the look of fear, twisted grins and a card with an Ace of that Kingdom’s suit.

Weeks had gone by once again, with everyone on edge and holding their breath, watching like an audience to see if one of the Royals of Spades would meet the same fate as the others.

It had been a warm afternoon, and The Queen had been practicing his ability with a sword in the Castle gardens, as Yao, their Jack had made mention that should something were to happen they would be able to defend themselves.

He had been startled by the sudden moment, but he felt the arms of someone wrap round him, struggling, he felt immense fear shot through him. A sword pierce through him, as he watched blood freely flow through the wound he heard a familiar laugh behind him.

Looking back, he saw blue eyes.

News had spread that the King of Spades had died. Not only had he died, but had been dead for nearly two years. No one had known that the King had a twin brother; no one knew that the younger brother had pretended to be the King of Spades.

But it was over now that the wrathful little brother had died, completing the chain to undo Wonderland. Peace would settle within the Kingdom once again, as the King of Spades and the Joker of Hearts had tried to do so years ago. They buried the King’s brother, along with the last remaining card.

The Ace of Spades.

Wonderland, oh Wonderland

A place full of everything yet was empty and void of everything. Oh how Wonderland was the place of both imagination and illogical conclusions. It is here that The Four suit Kingdoms sat, here in wonderland.

With the Kingdoms that were four at peace at last. As the King of Spades sat on his throne, talking to his brother with laughter, while the Queen and Jack had tea in the garden

The Jack of Hearts sleeping soundly in the afternoon sun as his brother loudly cursed his lover and the King and Queen both shook their heads in amusement. The Queen of Clubs ate lunch with the Jack and King in peace.

While the King of Diamonds begun to sing to the sweet little Queen as her brother stood watch with a faint smile on his face.

Yes, Wonderland was again at peace with no memory of the years before. Such was a timeless place where imagination, logical and Illogical thoughts are all one and the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't posted anything to recently. and I'm sort of sorry for this too.  
> Guess what song I found that got me to write this


End file.
